A Tether to the World
by KnightRooked
Summary: A series of one-shots featuring Wish Realm's Captain Hook and his beloved Rook, Alice.
1. Unprepared

He had known, of course, that he was unprepared. It wasn't until the first night that he realized just _how very much_. In the small tower they now shared, Alice's wails pierced through the walls sending Killian, the former pirate captain and devilishly handsome rapscallion, running to her in a cartoonish frenzy.

Holding her was still a trick. He had been more careful of her sensitive skin than his own as he navigated his disability around her, awkwardly catching himself a time or two with his hook before she was settled into his arms. "Shhh shh shh," he soothed, hoping his voice sounded a sight calmer than he felt. "It's alright, love. You're alright."

He felt the dampness instantly, her cloth diaper soaked through. A throb of panic hit his chest. Oh gods, how was he going to change a diaper? He wasn't altogether sure how he had managed to do it the first time, and he had to trust himself to keep doing it? What if he hurt her?

And then a dam broke, sending torrents of questions spilling into his exhausted mind. How was he going to continue to get what he needed to feed her, to clothe her, to soothe her at all? What did baby girls require, anyway? For over two hundred years, Killian Jones had largely been surrounded by boorish men with the occasional company of fast women. He had no damned clue what it took to keep something so small, so fragile, safe and properly nurtured. He couldn't even think back to his younger days for any hints. Up until his father had abandoned them, Killian was always the one being cared for not doing the caring.

Perhaps if Milah were—

He shook off the memory before it could tell him how much better suited she would have been for this, regardless of how her own experience ended. How much better anyone else but him would have been suited for this. How in the blazes was a hook-handed pirate supposed to provide any sort of life to this darling girl?

He took a few steps back and set her on a small table nearby, just watching her for a few moments as he let the panic bubble inside him. Five seconds. He'd allow himself five seconds to feel the waves coming down on him, as they had all those years ago when Liam navigated them toward the Eye of the Storm. After that, he'd have to trust himself, come what may. Alice needed him.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Killian closed his eyes, sucked in a sharp breath, and let it out slowly. Alice's cries still permeated the small dwelling, but their urgency had seemed to die down. That, he thought, or his own anxiety had loosened its grip on him enough to bring him back to reality.

"Don't worry, love. Papa has you. Let's get you cleaned up and you'll be good as new," he said, voice quiet.

He grabbed a square piece of cloth and set it to the side. Vowing as soon as Alice was asleep he would take a quick trip to the closest town for as many supplies as he could carry and climb up with, he got to work using his good hand unfastening the soiled garments. If he were a praying man, he figured he'd ask someone somewhere for the patience and fortitude to get better at dressing a child sooner rather than later.

 _At least no one is here to watch this buffoonery_ , he thought.

It took him longer than he ever would have hoped but soon Alice was clean and dry, her wails easing. Carefully, he used his hooked arm to prop her up before swooping her into his other arm, holding her tightly to him.

"There's my girl. Not so bad, eh? We'll get through this. Together," he muttered.

He rocked her gently, mimicking the rolls of the Jolly Roger on a calm night in the open ocean. "Rest tired eyes a while / Sweet is thy baby's smile / Angels are guarding and they watch o'er thee…"

Killian continued to sing, his voice sweet and breathy as he kept the notes just above a whisper. Alice shrieked a few more times before her eyes began to droop, her crinkled face relaxing. The angry red of her tantrum-flushed face faded to a light pink. In the dim lighting of their den, he marveled that something so wonderful could look like him. But, there she was. He could now see she had the same blue eyes and his pointed ears. Like he was born from some elvish realm, his mother used to tease.

He loathed the idea of leaving the newborn for any stretch of time on her own, but he had no choice. Perhaps he could get a dog like the nanny Baelfire had told him about all those years ago back during his stay with the Darlings. His heart clenched at the thought of the boy he had betrayed after his heartbreak. Never again, he vowed.

"I'll only leave you for a short while when I absolutely must, and I will always come back to you," he said, raising Alice up a little to brush a soft, scruffy kiss to her forehead. "We'll figure things out as they come. I promise you that."

He kept her there, pressed to him until the first light of day sent yellow and orange slivers into their tower. Today he'd have to part with her, if only for a short while, to get things she needed and perhaps consult a local medicine woman on what newborns required. He'd worry about that later. For now, all he just wanted to soak in a few more minutes of this beautiful serenity he shared with his Alice.

He knew he had been unprepared for how deeply and how fast he would grow to love her. Now, as one of her hands curled around his hook during a tranquil dream, he began to realize just _how very much._


	2. A Whole New World

_Gods above_ , she was antsy. He couldn't blame her. Spending weeks, even months at a time at sea had shown him his fair share of cabin fever. However, the Jolly Roger was a fair bit larger than this tower; even as a cabin boy he had more room to move around than his poor, darling six-year-old daughter did.

So, he couldn't really blame her for her fidgety, irritable behavior. Usually he was able to curtail it with a game of some sort or an hour or so of pretend that would leave their living space in ruins. But, she was getting bigger, more aware that Papa could leave but Alice had to sit at home by her lonesome, likely with some chore or homeschooling assignment he had given her. She was bored and lonely, simple as that.

Even if he _had_ caved to giving her a rabbit… and would likely cave again whatever other pet her heart desired because heaven help his conscience if he said no. Today even the white lop couldn't distract his Alice, who kicked at her makeshift school desk in frustration.

"I don't want to do this anymore!" she snapped.

The captain in him struggled to demand order and obedience, but the father in him crumbled at what he knew was an unavoidable bout of well-deserved frustration. The sun was out in the first warm day of spring, sending the scents of dewy grass and lavender all the way up through their tower window. He had hoped having her draw star maps of various worlds would both educate and entertain her, but anything short of tearing down the damn tower was sending her spinning toward a tantrum.

"Alice," he said, an edge of authority in his tone before it softened, "I understand that you're—"

"No you don't!" yelled Alice. "You get to do whatever you please! You don't understand at all!"

"Alice Jones," he started, his captain's voice inching in enough to give her pause. They both knew it was nothing more than a sign he, too, was nearing his last nerve. After the way he was raised, after what he had endured and the scars he had suffered as a child sold into servitude, there were certain lines he would never cross. Not with his Alice. At worst his captain tone with his bright child meant an evening without sweets or only one bedtime story. Luckily it rarely came to that—the thought of her father ever being disappointed in her sent a sharp pain through Alice's heart any time she entertained it.

Well, most times. This may have been heading toward a Jones family first. Before she could descend further into madness, Killian stepped toward her, put his hands on her shoulders, and kissed the top of her head. "I'm going to ask you to do something, and I am going to ask for you to trust me."

Her shoulders slumped a little in his hands and she craned her neck to look back at him. "Do what, Papa?"

"I want you to rest for a few hours. Try to sleep. I know you haven't been sleeping well the last few days. If you can't sleep, pick a book and read as much as you can, but I'd really like for you to do all you can to get a few moments of rest. I am going to get a few things and I'll be back as soon as I can. If all goes well, and if you do this for me, then we'll have quite an evening ahead of us. I promise you."

He felt her tense for but a moment, preparing to argue, then the fight left as quick as it rose through her. She slumped the rest of the way and gave a short nod. "Yes, Papa."

"That's my girl," he praised, kissing her soft, blond curls again before grabbing his leather duster. "And please remember to clean up after Mary Ann. I don't want to step on more rabbit leavings when I come home."

She giggled mischievously, the sound sending his heart fluttering. "Yes, Papa."

"Oh, and one more thing—where would you like to go?"

Alice's eyebrows knit together. "Go?"

"Yes, love. Tell me a world and I will bring it to you."

A wide, almost rabbit-like smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. "Can we go to Agrabah? Somewhere far away."

Killian gave her a firm nod, his eyebrow rising as his own signature smirk flashed. "Agrabah it is. Now, off to rest. And don't come back out until I call for you. I need to work some magic first."

* * *

The climb down was always the hardest. Not simply because it was more difficult to get the grip he needed, but the thought of leaving his daughter always sent a boulder rolling in his stomach. The nearest village was nearly an hour's walk away, and each step felt like it took him an eternity away from her. Thankfully, in the years since he had departed from his beloved Jolly Roger, his loyal first mate ( _Captain, now_ , he reminded himself) continued to send Hook what Smee felt was his rightful sum of gold after each adventure the crew went on without him. Though his heart ached for the spray of the ocean and the thrill of other worlds, the years had given Hook a deeper appreciation for the old rat's steadfast friendship.

Killian had most recently been able to acquire a horse and pay for it to be kept in the nearby village stables. It was only fair for the beast to have more companionship than he could offer from the foot of their tower, and it was only fair to Alice to not have the neighing taunt her as another reminder of something she couldn't see or touch.

The stables were only a fifteen-minute trek down a grassy path. He had been careful over the years to keep it from wearing too much, to prevent others from knowing about their hidden tower. He suspected the kind stable owner knew it somewhat, but she paid him no mind so long as he paid her in gold. From the stables, it was a fast gallop to get where he needed, and his mind ran with what he could possibly get to soothe his daughter's fitful, adventurous soul. Exotic spices, expensive in a foreign realm but well worth it for his girl, were the first items that came to mind. After that, he was lost.

That is, until the third tent in the street market came into view. "Star Lamps and Fairy Lights" the sign advertised. Curiosity piqued, he stepped inside and marveled at an array of various-sized crystal balls, all colored a velvety blackish blue with small, clear speckles dotting each one. He approached one, taking in the label beneath it.

"Neverland," it said. He raised the ball closer, immediately recognizing the speckles formed familiar shapes, ones he had memorized a thousand times over from his years trapped with the demon, Pan. His eyes scanned the other crystal pieces, catching miniaturized constellations he had navigated under for centuries.

"Would you like to see how it works?" a voice croaked behind him. Killian turned to see a withered man whose wild eyebrows adorned sparkling blue eyes. In his surprise, he simply nodded and watched as the man closed the tent cover, blocking all signs of the spring afternoon. The only light left was a small fire in a strange brass lantern. The elderly man shuffled toward the device, placing the ball labeled "Neverland" atop its setting. Instantly, the tent filled with a night sky Killain was so acquainted with it took his breath away.

Sure, the images were a little distorted around the corners of the tent, but gods it was as close as he could ever imagine getting without a magic bean. "It's brilliant," he breathed out. "How many realms do you have?"

"Dozens. Is there one in particular you're looking for?"

"Agrabah, if you have it. I'll take as many as I can carry, though."

* * *

An exuberant fire lit in Killian's heart as he made his way out of the market. His bag was heavier than he anticipated, now packed full of foreign foodstuffs, incense, four of some silly 'calming' water mechanism he hoped would do the trick, and as many starry crystals as he could fit with their accompanying lantern. Climbing back up that tower would be a magnificent challenge, but it would be well worth it.

It was when he spotted the small wagon wheel cast aside in the road that he knew it would be more than one climb, but he'd climb as much as he needed to bring his daughter a minute of happiness. A minute of pretend. A minute of _freedom_. His every muscle burned by the time he and all his loot had made it back inside their home, the tell-tale signs of sunset creating an orange glow over the quiet tower.

True to her word, Alice had kept to her room. Killian chanced a peek in on her and was relieved to see her spread like a starfish over her bed, covers half twisted and a book open at her side. Every minute he thought he couldn't love her more was a minute he was proven wrong.

Pulling himself away from the sight, he got to work. Sheets and rope first, his years of tying masts doing him a wealth of good as he worked in as much quiet as he could manage. He thanked the gods Alice, when she could sleep, slept like the dead. Moving furniture along the hardwood floor wasn't the most silent of tasks, but he caught her stir only once before she settled.

Next, he cleaned the wagon wheel and pierced a hole dead center of their wooden counter, fastening it to as close to a steering mechanism as he could manage with such limited tools. It wasn't perfect, but he hoped his six-year-old would get the gist. From his mock-helm, he looked out over the living room area, now converted into a facsimile of the Jolly Roger. At least, as close to it as he could hope to make without real magic at his disposal. Pulling out the silly water toys that had been advertised for "tranquility" and to "reduce stress"—a lost idea to him since he acquired the constant worry of parenthood—he filled them with water and spaced them evenly around the fake ship, activating their mechanics so a mild sloshing sound could be heard around him. It was by no means the sea, but it could work in a pinch.

He moved to light the incense, the scent of sea-salt and seaweed lifting into the air after the initial burnt sulfur died away. Finally, he set himself up in the kitchen, going to work on the few recipes he could remember from his limited times in Agrabah. The mostly-desert world wasn't one he had grown too accustomed to, but he would bloody well do everything he could to recreate the sense of its coastline now.

Go figure, it was the smell of food that stirred his Alice awake. He could imagine Liam teasing that she was just like him.

"Papa?" she called, her voice light and a little croaky from sleep. "Can I come out now?"

Rushing to set up the lantern, he placed Agrabah's constellations across the ceiling of their tower, careful to adjust it so the stars were in their rightful places for the time of year. "You can come out, love," he finally called back.

At the first sight of their living room area, Alice's eyes widened, her gaze moving through every inch of what her father had created. He chose then to sweep over to her, letting food simmer over a low flame. "Would you like to step aboard, m'lady?"

"W-where are we?" she asked.

"Why, the Jolly Roger, of course."

She moved with him in a daze toward the "helm" of the ship, senses assaulted with the smells of a mixture of sea air, cooking dishes from the bazaar, the sound of waves lopping around them, and the night sky glittering above.

"Oh, Papa…" she started, her eyes welling with more emotions than she could grasp. "It's so… I…"

He knelt down beside her, wrapping his arms around her middle in a tight hug from behind, his scruffy cheek resting against hers. "Darling, I can't imagine how you must feel each day being trapped in here. But I swear on my life, I will do whatever it takes to break this curse. And, until I do, I will do everything in my power to bring the realms to you."

He held her for a long stretch, the pair letting the mimicked world around them work its magic, letting little Alice forget just a little that she was a prisoner. For now, even just a little while, she was a free sailor in a new world with her papa, the best captain in all the realms, at her side.

As if reading her mind, he guided her hands to the wagon wheel. "Now, would you like to show me what you know already? Let's test out that sea in your blood, eh?"

She looked up, chewing her lips as she tried to get her bearings with the constellations dancing above her head. She named a few she recognized from the maps he had given her to study, and together they sailed this new world. His hands rested on her sides, mimicking the rocking of the ship to help give her, her sea legs for when they did finally leave this wretched tower.

If she closed her eyes for long enough, if she let him work what magic he had, she could almost feel like they were there.


	3. Sunrises and Sunsets

Clockwork. There was something about the reliable ticking of a clock that her father had always found comforting. Strange, since she thought someone who had spent decades (he was still reluctant to admit _how long_ and, by relation, _how old_ he was) as a plundering pirate would find grating. Time was uniform, a restriction. Apparently in some realms it worked differently, minutes in one stretching on for hours in another. But in their tidy tower, time was consistent, and they governed their lives by it.

Even as a toddler, Alice just knew her papa had specific times for everything. Breakfast time, lessons time, lunch time, play time, tea time, bath time, dinner time, bed time. All in a constant circle, save for bedtime—that was negotiable based on the annual celebration of her birthday and her behavior. All others never wavered more than a few minutes.

The only real changes to their constant schedule was the timing of the sunrise, sunset, and position of the stars. Her papa had those down by the minute regardless, just as he had everything else. Without fail, he woke before sunrise, starting her morning with the bubbling scent of breakfast on a skillet and his black tea steeping next to her fresh orange juice. Often, he let her get her rest, knowing full well his growing, wild girl slept fitfully. Some mornings, however, Alice opened her wide blue eyes, so like his, and found her way to him as he read a book in their large leather chair.

Alice would crawl into his lap and he would gather her to his chest, cradling her with his hooked arm while she helped him turn the pages. Half the time she didn't know what he was talking about as he muttered the words under his breath. She didn't care. Her papa was the smartest man in the worlds, and she could listen to him read anything as long as he kept holding her.

When the glittering orange glow began to pierce their tower window, father and daughter would stare in blissful silence out to the horizon. A sea of color would flood their home, casting a warm glow over the pair of them.

"Morning, papa," she would finally say.

"Good morning, love," he would reply.

Sunrises were for quiet sitting, reading, and taking in a new morning and new hope for the day to come. As magical as they were, it was sunsets that they shared that felt the most special. Sunsets were the reminder that, regardless of whatever the day had brought, there were still beautiful things to appreciate and new days ahead. Sunsets meant closing out the visions of the tower behind them as they looked out their large window and discussed the colors painted in bright watercolors across the sky. A sky that would soon turn to constellations which would turn to stories which would turn into a new day.

Every sunset when she was small enough, Killian would lift her into his arms and settle her into his lap on the step by the window, resting his chin lightly atop her blond curls. "What do you want for tomorrow, Alice?" he would ask.

"I want to go to Neverland," she would sometimes say. Sometimes it would be Agrabah, Camelot, Arendelle, Avalon, and any number of other worlds.

"And what do you want to see there?"

Some days she would chew her lip, others she would answer in an instant. Flying shadows or wild horses. Knights, reindeer, ladies in lakes and their enchanted swords. Each time, as the sun kissed the horizon, Killian would close his eyes and wish to whoever was listening that she would get the chance to see it all.

She was ten by the time she stopped answering. She told him she was out of places she wanted to go. There was no point if she still couldn't leave and no point in making her papa close his eyes again, to give him another reason to get that sad crease in his brows. Instead, she began offering to make them both whatever teas they had available. Sunset tea parties replaced their previous norm, evolving from a pot of leftover chamomile to full-blown settings of vanilla-infused white teas and accompanying orange cakes, or hearty green teas with cucumber sandwiches. Her heart's desire, he would say.

Fifteen came and went, and now they would sit quietly. Her papa had gotten gray, his whiskers more salt than pepper or that deep auburn that had flecked them before. Their tea parties had once again turned into a simple pot shared between the two of them. They would allow the watercolors flood their tower, wash over them, though the hope they brought had somewhat faded. The constellations they brought still told stories, but they were more of struggles and battle than fairytales or whimsical lands and their benevolent gods.

"I love you, Alice," he started to say one night. Like clockwork. He had said it so many times before, though they were more like bedtimes than any of their other scheduled events—negotiable and dependent on moods or events. Now it was also in a resigned constant. In his tone she sensed a sadness. A loathing. Of what she wasn't sure, but she could imagine. She knew that feeling. That drifting from the world feeling. That feeling that somehow, someway, each sunset was her fault, just as he felt it was his. Each sunset was a failure.

* * *

She couldn't remember how old she was. The foster system didn't keep track of her birthday, and she didn't care much about the year. Something told her time was relative. As constant as it could be, some places made it lost, and her precise age could be lost with it.

Still, a nagging at the back of her mind made Tilly wistful about sunsets. Maybe it was some distant memory, like a dream that faded the more she tried to pull it back. Maybe it was because she knew Detective Rogers would always be at the docks, staring into the Puget Sound and beyond. Like clockwork.

"You look like you could use some company," she chanced one day, taking a seat at the bench beside him.

He looked up, shaking off some daze and smiling back at her. "Maybe. I come here a lot. It just…"

"Feels calming? Yeah," she muttered.

There was a hint about the last word, that soft "yeah" that made him smile proudly. He couldn't for the life of him figure out why, but Rogers allowed his eyes to crinkle at her before staring back into the burnt pink hues of the Seattle sunset.

"I feel like this needs something," Tilly said suddenly, leaning back into the bench.

Rogers chuckled and reached beside him, pulling out two cardboard cups still piping hot. "Not sure why, but I got two today. Tea. I have a vanilla-infused white tea and a green tea. Any preferences?"

"Depends on if you have any cakes or sandwiches in there."

His crow's feet deepened and he reached back into his bag, pulling out an orange-iced loaf slice and handing her the white tea. Tilly couldn't keep a giggle from escaping her lips, the source of it somewhere deep and warm in her stomach.

"So, it's a party, then," she said.

Her words plucked at something in his heart, and Rogers sat there waiting for the constellations that could pierce through the lights of Seattle. There could be some stories there.


End file.
